


Theory and Practice

by shimotsuki



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimotsuki/pseuds/shimotsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ekaterin knew that agreeing to marry Miles meant she would have to face this moment, sooner or later.  But knowing that doesn't make it any easier when the time comes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theory and Practice

“It was lovely to see you again, Ekaterin,” said Delia Koudelka with a warm smile.

Ekaterin smiled back. “The pleasure was mine.” It was so easy to like these Koudelka sisters.

Especially when Delia’s next words were, “Nice party, Miles. Much more successful than your _last_ attempt.”

Ekaterin suppressed the grin that threatened to break free, out of sympathy for Miles’s expression of wounded outrage, and turned to wish Duv Galeni a good night. He was interesting and pleasant, too, when he wasn’t in a mood, and Delia seemed rather good at dislodging him whenever one cropped up.

“Well, coz.” Ivan drained his wineglass. “Looks like I’ve outstayed everyone but the lovely Ekaterin. Guess that’s my cue.”

Miles glowered, but Ivan merely winked at him, kissed Ekaterin’s hand with exaggerated gallantry, and went whistling off.

“This _has_ been lovely, Miles.” Ekaterin twined her fingers through his. “I like your friends.”

“I’m glad.” The glower was replaced by a smile slightly tinged with relief. “Can I get you another glass of wine?” He tugged on her hand, leading her over toward a sofa that faced the fireplace. “Or a cup of tea?”

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment. Her frequent evenings at Vorkosigan House generally did finish with a cuddle on the sofa, which was quite nice indeed. But she might wake her aunt and uncle when she let herself into their house, so the sooner she got back, the better. “I should probably be on my way. It’s awfully late tonight.”

Miles nodded, slowly, but then he took a deep breath and tilted his head to one side.

“You could spend the night here, you know.”

He was trying so hard to look nonchalant that Ekaterin thought he might strain something. And she let herself be amused by that so that she could keep the deeper panic at bay.

She _could_ stay. Couldn’t she?

 _Don’t feel you need to come home tonight,_ Aunt Vorthys had said, _especially since we’re keeping Nikki here this time._

Could she?

While she stood frozen, pondering, Miles’s chin jerked up.

He pulled it smartly down again, and immediately started saying comfortable, familiar things about calling Pym to bring the groundcar around. His smile had gone bright and reassuring.

But she had seen it, that moment of insecurity.

“I’d—thank you, I’d like to stay,” she stammered.

He broke into a wide, brilliant grin. She couldn’t help but smile shakily back.

After all, she was going to _marry_ Miles. She would have to face this at some point. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in staying overnight, in theory.

It was the practice that was the problem.

~ * ~

Miles led the way into his bedroom suite, and then into the bathroom, where he produced a new toothbrush and a pile of thick towels for her.

“Just a minute,” he said, “and I’ll find you some pajamas.”

He dashed off. Ekaterin spent a few moments investigating the complicated spray and temperature controls in what was easily the most luxurious shower she had seen in her life.

“Here,” said Miles, slightly out of breath. “These ought to fit well enough.” He handed her a neatly folded set of satin pajamas in dark green.

“Miles.” Ekaterin narrowed her eyes at him. “Are these your _mother’s_?”

“Of course.” He shrugged. “It’s not like anything of mine would fit you.”

She was willing to concede the point, but still. His _mother_ —good heavens.

“Look,” said Miles, “you have to remember that my mother is Betan. If she knew you were staying here tonight, she would be _ecstatic_.”

He grinned again, and bowed himself out of the bathroom.

Ekaterin had to laugh.

~ * ~

The shower was just as decadent as it looked, and the hot scented spray should have been supremely relaxing. But by the time Ekaterin put on the Countess’s pajamas and took up her toothbrush, her hands were shaking.

She met the eyes of the pale, pinched-looking woman in the mirror. “Miles is not Tien,” she said firmly. “This is completely different.”

The woman in the mirror looked back. _But you are still you._

What if she couldn’t go through with this tonight?

What if she couldn’t go through with this, ever?

~ * ~

Ekaterin emerged from the bathroom to find Miles reading in bed, damp and tousled. _Of course,_ she thought, feeling less guilty about taking so much time to get ready. There must be a half-dozen bathrooms in this house.

The room was dark except for one small light burning by the bed, and the covers on the empty side— _her_ side—were turned down invitingly.

Miles looked up and saw her, and his face changed.

She halted in her hesitant progress across the room. “What is it?”

He shook his head and grinned. “Your hair. I hardly ever see it down like that.”

Her laugh was shaky again. “I can’t sleep with it pinned up!”

Miles swung his legs out from under the duvet and padded across the carpet to meet her. “Of course not, and I was only thinking that it looks lovely—”

He stopped short when he reached her, close enough now to read her expression in the dim light. His face changed again.

“Ekaterin,” he said, very quietly. “Let’s just sleep tonight. We’ll get used to each other, a little bit. If we decide we’re ready for something else, that’s nice, too, but there’s no hurry.” He took her hand and gave it a careful squeeze. “We have all the time we need.”

 _Miles is not Tien._

Miles made people bigger, not smaller.

She breathed, and nodded, and let him lead her to the bed.

~ * ~

Miles had actually tucked her in, with a soft kiss and another grin, before circling around to climb in bed on his own side.

Now the lamp was off, and the two of them lay quietly breathing in the dark, their hands just touching in the space between.

Ekaterin closed her eyes and commanded herself to relax.

It didn’t work.

The panic had subsided, thank goodness, but she still felt stiff and awkward. She certainly wasn’t giving Miles the kind of night he must have been hoping for.

He stirred, next to her. “How do you feel about backrubs?”

“Oh,” she breathed. “I—rather like them.”

“Good. Roll over, and let me give a try.” He gave her shoulder a little push, and she rolled away from him obligingly.

He started by gathering her hair into his hands—gently, so gently. Then he twisted it into a loose roll and dropped it over her shoulder. He planted a kiss between her shoulderblades, and she shivered a little, but after that it was just his hands. Warm, slow hands, up and down and across her back, over and over.

She sighed from sheer delight, and slowly melted into sleep.

~ * ~

Ekaterin woke gradually, luxuriously. She remembered where she was when she realized that she had one leg wrapped around Miles, and he had an arm flung over her waist in return.

All the panic was gone now, and the stiff awkwardness. Only the warm lassitude of the backrub remained—that, and the fading memory of several rather _interesting_ dreams.

Miles woke, blinking against the morning sun, and she smiled at him, a warm, sleepy, happy smile.

His eyes darkened. He swallowed, hard.

Ekaterin shivered, but not from nerves this time. She captured his hand and brought it to her lips, and kissed each finger, one by one.

It was Miles who looked uncertain, now, searching her face for clues.

She leaned over to kiss him on the lips, quite thoroughly. That ought to be a very large clue.

“I think,” she said huskily, “I’m ready if you are.”

~ _fin_ ~


End file.
